Fortibus Lupus
by RC Smiles
Summary: The spirit of bravery, the most intimidating, recluse, anti-social, fierce spirit to ever live. Well that's what they say about me anyway, I like to think that I'm just to awesome for them to handle. JackxOC Non-Fluff with dark themes. You have been warned.
1. Prologue

**Hey guys! I'm not dead! I'm back, and have a new computer so I will be typing away chapters for this story like there's no tomorrow. Anyway, i took down my story Melting Hurts due to the fact that my writing style has changed since i wrote that and the editing I'll be doing is going to be extreme. So anyway, please take a moment to review, any criticism is fine, and feel free to give me ideas, i love hearing from you! BTW, i absolutely HATE Mary Sue characters, so this OC will definitely have alot of flaws. You have been warned! Also, this story is not going to be light and fluffy romance between her and Jack. There will be drama and tragedy, abuse and tears, etc., and the romance won't even start for a few chapters, ok? You have been warned.**_  
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**I don't own Rise of the Guardians, if i did, there would be a character called ME, and she would date Jack. Just saying. He's mine.**

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><p>Prologue<p>

I wake in the woods.

Alone. Scared. I look to my surroundings for answers.

Blood. So much blood. It takes a second for my brain to realise, it's MY blood. I'm sitting in the woods at night, in a pool of my own blood.

How did I get here? I strain my memory, but….nothing. I can't remember anything. Not even my own name. Nothing.

I stand slowly, as to not jostle my wound, but for some reason I feel no pain. Upon examining myself, I realise I _have _no wound. But then, where did all the blood come from? There's no one in sight.

I look at what I'm wearing, and precede to be more confused than ever. Big brown combat boots, black skinny jeans, an emerald tank top, and a brown leather hooded jacket.

It's only then that I see the shiny object just a foot away from me.

A knife.

It's beautifully carved, the gleaming silver handle flashing with swirling night designs, with a wolf howling at the moon. The blade double-edged, with a slight curve, as if it was made with one purpose alone.

To kill.

The thought scared me slightly, but it also intrigued me. The idea of using weapons like that knife to bring death excited me. I'm not sure whether that was good or bad.

I pick it up, and was shocked to find that it fit in my hand perfectly, like it belonged there.

I slipped it into a sheath on my belt, and discovered something I hadn't noticed earlier.

My belt was tilted up slightly, one side resting on my hip, the other on my waist. It was thick and wide, because it had many pockets and straps, filled with ammo, grenades, and other assorted weaponry. On my opposite hip to the knife, was a handgun in another sheath. Tucked into my boots was a small dagger. On my back was an intricately carved bow, with a quiver full of arrows, all with designs matching the knife.

I stand still, shocked and horrified at the amount of weapons on me. Why were they there? What was I supposed to use them for? My head hurt from trying to remember anything.

I walk through the woods, making as little noise as possible in case anything sinister was nearby. My footsteps were light, my knees slightly bent in case I needed to either fight or run in a split second. Was I a ninja in a past life? I can't even hear _myself_.

What's strange is that I feel completely comfortable in these woods, though I'm certain anyone else would find it frightening. I can hear all the animals snoring, the branches swaying, the wolves' occasional howls. It feels like this is my….._home_. How weird is that? I've never been here before, at least…. I don't think so….

The trees ahead of me thin, and I feel my breath catch in my throat as I gaze upon the scene before me.

It's a beautiful lake, completely frozen over, the icy slick surrounded by snow covered grass, the trees with beautiful frost designs on them. The wind overhead begins to rustle the trees above me with it's ferocity, as if a plane was about to fly directly overhead.

I back up into the trees with incredible speed, blending into the shadows with ease. I don't dare to move, in case the plane is a non-friendly, in which it spotting me would definitely be bad.

It appears in the sky, not that far above the tree line, and my lungs stop working as I realise what it is.

_Santa's Sleigh._

But…..but…Santa isn't real. He's just a story made up to trick kids into being good…..right?

I get jogged back to reality when I hear whoops and cheers from the circling sleigh, a shape dropping down onto the icy lake, surprisingly not cracking the delicate looking ice.

"Seeya Jack!"

My head whips back to the source of the noise, a russian sounding voice coming from someone I couldn't see clearly from this distance.

"Bye guys!"

This time the noise came from the shape which dropped from the sleigh, which I know see to be a boy. Oh. He waves back at the sleigh, chuckling to himself and turning away when it zooms off.

Turning towards me.

His eyes widen, and he freezes in place, and I get a good look at him.

He looks about 14. About my age….I think. He has white-silver hair, a perfectly chisilled face, a blue hoodie with similar frost designs to the trees, rough brown pants, and is carrying a staff, I think, which is also pointing directly at my face as he stares.

I look directly into his eyes, and my breath releases shakily. Beautiful, ice blue eyes that shine with curiosity and warmth. And they're staring directly into mine.

"Who are you?"

His voice bursts through my thoughts, and my eyebrows push together as I realise the voice is his.

I don't know what to say. I don't know who I am.

His stance gets more aggressive when I don't answer, and my hand twitches unconsciously to my knife. This only makes it worse though.

I'm trapped between a rock and a hard place, I realise bitterly. There's only one thing I can do, considering the boy in front of me appears to be less than friendly.

So I do it.

I run.

I'm dashing madly through the trees before he can blink, my breathing erratic and uneven.

I hear him give chase, and I sigh heavily between pants. There's no way I can outrun him, I know what he can do. He can fly. I saw it. The lucky bastard.

As I sprint through the woods I so previously called home, I feel my mind empty, my heart slow, and my body contort, but I still keep moving. The pain is unbearable, yet only a whimper escapes my lips when others would have screamed. My skin turns to fur, my mouth into a muzzle, hands to paws.

And all of a sudden my sprinting feels different, rhythmic almost, as my pace quickens as my four legs move so quickly I'm all but a blur, streaking through the snow topped forest.

The dies down, and I smile, well, I do my best considering I have a muzzle. It's the most amazing thing I've ever experienced. Even though I'm moving through the greenery so fast it's definitely unhuman, I can see every miniscule detail of every leaf, feel every tiny movement of the snow under my paws, smell the scent of every living thing, hear every rustle of every branch.

I feel my pursuer stop his chase, and I know he's given up on catching me. I laugh huskily, my warm breath creating a fog in this winter paradise.

I slow my pace, but don't stop running. Not because I think the boy's still following me, but because running felt so _right_.

I content myself with examining my surroundings, and discover that I wound up on a mountain peak, a small pond being the only thing worth taking note of. Hmmm. Where am I in the world?

I feel my muscles contract, and whimper as I know what's about to happen.

The pain is just as excruciating as the first time, but luckily it's only a few seconds before I shakily stand on my human legs.

I stumble over to the tiny frozen pond, and fall backwards onto my knees when I get a glimpse of my reflection.

I cautiously crawl forward, inhaling slowly, until I can see my entire face in the ice.

I'm not ugly, but not amazingly beautiful either, I'm just…..striking.

I have red hair, but not bright red, yet not ginger either. Just…red.

My face was pale, not vampirish, but I most certainly didn't have a tan.

But the most striking thing was my eyes. Just like the boy's, they sent a chill over you, and held your gaze indefinitely. They were pure emerald, as deep and gleaming as the jewels themselves. They were as intimidating as my weapons, yet as warm as the summer sun.

They represented me perfectly.

I didn't know myself well, especially considering I couldn't remember a damn thing about who I was before I woke up, or how I acted, but I knew that I was fierce. I was smart, in battle strategy as well as pure logic and knowledge, I was ruthless, confident, charismatic.

But I also knew that I was scared. Of many things. I was headstrong. Sometimes my pride held dominion. And I was scared of intimacy. I was naturally independent, pushing others away constantly, hurting people in order to protect myself from betrayal. I had major trust issues.

And I had no idea why. I had no idea who I was, or why I was like this. Why I woke up surrounded by my own blood. Why I saw Santa's sleigh, which I _know _isn't real, why I saw a boy fly and why I turned into a wolf, which is _impossible_.

Why is all this happening to me? This has to be a twisted dream. But… who would I be when I woke up? I don't remember _anything_…

I got the strangest feeling that I was being watched.

Getting up hesitantly from my crouched position by the pond, I slowly circled, eyes scanning for any sign of life.

Nothing.

But the feeling wasn't going away.

Looking around, I noticed something around my shadow.

Wait, _shadow_? No one has a shadow at night….

Yet there it is, a clearly defined shadow. Surrounded by the brightest moonlight I've ever seen.

Turning around, I was blinded by a beam of light, as if the moon has turned into a giant spotlight, pointing straight at me.

Goddamn it's bright.

Almost as if in answer to that thought, the light dimmed, turning to a soft glow.

Looking to the moon, I furrowed my eyebrows, what the hell was going on?

_Don't be afraid._

I jumped back, whipping around for the voice's source.

I felt a pull in my chest, turning me towards the moon, which seemed to shine in approval.

_You have been chosen._

Chosen? Chosen for what? What the fuck is going on? Why the fuck is the _moon_ talking to me?

_You are the spirit of the forest. Of the animals within it. _

_You are the spirit of battle. Of the fighting involved._

_You, are the spirit of bravery._

Oh sweet baby jesus. That's a lot to take in. I mean, after all that's happened, it kinda makes sense, but still, you can't just drop the 'you're a spirit' bomb on somebody like that. Bravery is a pretty fucking cool power though.

_You are Arazebeth._

_You are the Fortibus Lupus._

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><p><strong>Yeah, this is only the prologue. Suckers. XD<strong>_  
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	2. Solitude

**So, hey. Wow, shittiest intro ever in two syllables. That's a new record. Anyway, i slaved over my keyboard to get this done quickly. Grumble grumble. I have a rough idea of the plot for this whole story, but it's hard getting it to stretch out, okay? Gimme a break. I was gonna add Bunnymund in this chapter, but decided to just include what's there. I did have the whole next chapter planned out, but I'll have to stretch it further to fit him in. So, it will be quite a while before any real JackxOC action happens. That okay with you guys? Haha, just kidding i don't give a shit. **

**Also, i'm considering doing a spin-off series once this one is done, where the ROTG and Walking Dead worlds kinda mush together, and there's some Daryl and Arazebeth family-fluff. There'll be more info on my profile page. Let me know if you're interested, because I'm hesitant on whether or not to do it.**_  
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**I do not own Rise of the Guardians. Obviously.**

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><p><strong>Chapter 1: Solitude<strong>

**6 Years Later**

Walking through the busy Sydney streets, I reflect upon the time of my creation. I have discovered much since then, including that of the Guardians. Protectors of children. Sounded like a decent days' work. But I can never be a Guardian. To be blunt, I just didn't want to. I'm too volatile, too unstable. Within seconds I could quite literally rip one of their heads off. I guess that came from my periods of loneliness. I mean, don't get me wrong, I crave independence, but it doesn't make me much of a people person. I've only had occasional brief encounters with other spirits, none of them ending well.

Only a few weeks after I woke up, I met Joker, Spirit of Laughter, and April Fool's. When he saw me, his eyes widened perceptibly in fear. I can't say I blame him, when you turn around to see a hooded figure holding a gun to your head, you have reason to be a little freaked out. Especially when he asked who I was, and I responded by glaring holes into his head and growling. Not to mention morphing into my wolf form and pinning him to the ground before bounding away into the woods.

Good times.

It happened much the same way on all my other encounters with spirits such as Amber, Spirit of Autumn, Clint, Spirit of…well…..Cupid, Elsa, Spirit of Love, and Sparrow, Spirit of the Seven Seas.

All of those visits ended with a frightened spirit, off to go tell all their friends, not to mention believers, all about the fearsome Spirit of Bravery, how if you entered her forest, you would be found several days later in a ditch, physically scarred by a wolf's claws, mentally scared by the things she had done to you.

Pffft. As if I would hurt an innocent passerby. People are free to come and go in my woods, so long as they respect the plants and animals within. Because if they don't…..well, let's just say they will get more than just scars.

I care for my forest, and it cares for me. It was a slightly dysfunctional relationship sometimes, but we make it work.

But there is a slight snag. You see, the forest contains the lake I stumbled upon right after my birth. That wouldn't be a problem, if it weren't for the fact that the lake is the boy's home.

_Jack_.

I don't know his last name, or, whether he even has one. I mean, _I_ don't. I'm just Arazebeth. Though the animals gave me the nickname Raz. I like it. It suits my ferocious personality.

I avoid Jack as much as possible, running like a bat out of hell whenever I catch a glimpse of him. No matter how hard he tried, he could never find me, not since that one brief meeting those 6 years ago. Eventually he gave up and forgot about me. Good.

I push people away. He'd just get hurt. Or I would. We both would. That's why I never try to make friends. Never try to gather believers. I'm better off alone.

I'm snapped out of my reverie by the familiar hollow feeling of a child completely passing through me. Damn. It never gets any more pleasant, does it?

I look back at the child, seeing it to be a young girl, 10 or 11 years old, with fiery red hair so untameable it looks wild. She has big blue eyes and is wearing a green dress.

She runs down the road with impressive speed, weaving through the crowds skilfully. Hmmmm. She must be a local. Against my better judgement, I decide to follow her. I've got nothing better to do anyway.

Running after her, I notice her looking at a digital clock in a nearby shop fearfully, panic crossing her small features. She's holding a brown paper bag in one hand like it's her lifeline, sprinting barefoot to the dodgy side of Sydney.

Once in a particularly shabby street, druggos and predators at every turn, she runs into a dark alley.

My eyebrows crease more than ever, what could a girl like her possibly be doing here? Why did she look so scared?

I'm cut off from my thoughts as she begins to climb a fire escape into one of the dingy apartments.

Where the hell is she going?

I climb up after her, and through the window into the room she's in.

It's a tiny bedroom, obviously hers. The walls are a dirty grey, half-heartedly covered up with posters of horses and archery, though she was obviously unable to reach the higher up parts due to her size. The thought sends a giggle to my lips.

The small cot has only a raggedy brown pillow, and a thin blue and green plaid blanket. Her few belongings and clothes appear to be either in a worn cardboard box, or in a knapsack serving as a schoolbag, her uniform lying flat on the bed. Despite her pitiful living conditions, she obviously takes care in her appearance at school.

During my appraisal of her room, the girl herself had left the room, and I only just realise when I hear a man's shouting from what appears to be the living room.

I enter, and immediately see that the rest of the apartment matches the girl's, except for the lack of posters and personal belongings. The single couch is covered in stains, the TV supported by a few bricks, the kitchen consisting of a gas stove and a mini-fridge. Beer bottles, cigarette stubs and empty prescription containers litter every surface.

The man who shouted previously is now yelling full-force at the girl, who's cowering in the corner, her pride refusing to let the tears flow in front of this man. Smart.

"Lying whore! I told you to get the 700g from Larry!"

The man in shaking the bag in the girl's face, obviously pissed off because she didn't get him enough drugs to satisfy him. How dare he abuse a child like that?! I start seeing red when he slaps her.

She is shaking visibly when she replies,

"Larry said you only had enough for 300g!"

Huh. She's got a thick Scottish accent. Weird. His is just Australian. Is she adopted?

Her response only makes him madder, and I'm torn between fear for the girl, and pure rage at the man.

Oh god I wish there was something I could do. But I know if I tried my hand would just go right through them.

"There was enough money! I bet you spent it all on yourself, didn't you? Selfish little slut!"

She whimpers as he hits her repeatedly, tears still refusing to escape. Goddamn she was tough.

He's about to deal the final blow with a beer bottle when there's a knock at the door.

"Be quiet or else."

He turns toward the door, opening it slightly, and I can hear a strained conversation begin.

I know this is the girl's only chance. He'll kill her otherwise.

Turning back to her, I kneel down, stroking her hair softly. Not enough for my hand to pass through her, but enough for it to be felt. Soothing words escape my lips, comforting her, even though she can't hear.

Somehow, my hand starts glowing softly. .Fuck.

The glow grows brighter, until it moves from my body to the girl's. Is this….is this my power? I knew how to work the other two, forest and battle, but I'd never known how to impart the gift of bravery. Is this how? Is this my purpose? To travel the world, giving my gift to those who need to be brave, just like the girl? Is that why the Moon made me?

The girl opens her eyes, her brow creasing with determination. She gets up off the floor, moving to go to her bedroom, before freezing in place. She turns to me, eyes wide, looking me up and down, back away slowly.

Wait…..can she _see_ me?

Unbeknownst to me, I had said that previous thought out loud, and the girl nods slowly, mouth hanging open.

"You can see me!"

Another slow nod. A gigantic grin appears on my face. My first believer! No one had ever seen me before, except for other spirits! This was amazing! Screw what I said earlier about not needing believers! I still agree with what I said about friends though.

"Who are you?"

Her Scottish accent perpetrates my little bubble of joy, and I briefly wonder how to answer.

"I'm Arazebeth. Spirit of the forest, battle, and most importantly, bravery. At your service."

She giggles at my over-dramatic bow and flourish. Goddamn she's adorable.

"I'm Merida!"

"Well, Merida, how about we get outta here before your dad comes back?"

Glancing over to the door worriedly, as if she'd just remembered her dad was still here, she nods her head quickly, running into her room.

Glancing at the door myself before following her, I estimate that we have about two minutes before he gets back.

In her room, we run to and fro, squeezing everything important in her little knapsack. Before long, we were jumping out the window onto the fire escape, barely looking back at the dingy apartment she used to call home.

"Where are we going?"

Her innocent voice brings me to a halt. Huh. Where a_re_ we going? I didn't really think about before. I know she may be better off with a foster family or something, but secretly, my selfish side can't bear to part with her. I've never been this attached to someone before, but I feel like this girl is my little sister or something. It would kill me inside to leave her. So there's only one place to go I guess.

The forest. I'd have to take more stringent measures to throw Jack off my trail, so that the Guardians never find out about Merida, but I could handle it. I don't know exactly why I don't want the Guardians knowing, but something tells me they wouldn't exactly agree.

I can raise her just fine. I mean, she won't be able to go to school anymore, but I was in high school, I think, before I died, and I retained some general knowledge even through my death, so I can teach her the basics, and even then it won't matter that much. I doubt she'll be in human society that much, since she'll probably spend all her time in the forest, eating berries and nuts, caring for the animals, going fishing, climbing trees and all that stuff. I have a feeling she's pretty damn adventurous.

And hey, she had archery posters in her room! I could make her a bow, and teach her with targets! And teach her how to ride a horse! This is going to work out just fine. I just need to protect her from the Guardians. And any other spirits too…

Now that I've made up my mind, let's give her the verdict.

"We're going home."

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><p>Once we're at the outskirts of the forest, I cover up her eyes.<p>

"What are you doing?"

"Shhh, Merida. It's a surprise. No peeking."

"I promise!"

Smiling, I guide her through the trees, until we reach the mountain side. There's a large crack going through it, getting smaller the higher it goes, until I disappears altogether. The base is big enough to walk through, though covered in a thick layer of vines.

Pushing our way through, I grin in anticipation to her reaction to what's on the other side.

I feel my breath catch in my throat when I catch a glimpse of the meadow that never ceases to amaze me. A circular plain of grass and flowers leads to a small ring of trees, before the cliff walls rise, up to ground level above, roots woven up said walls, leading to a tree canopy above, giving the appearance from an aerial perspective that there was nothing there but regular forest.

Basically, it was Jack-proof.

Small forest animals such as bunnies, squirrels and birds frolic in the meadow, dancing in excitement as they see me and Merida enter.

I can literally feel Merida's excitement radiating through her being.

"Open your eyes." I slowly remove my hands.

"Oh my god! This is beautiful."

Merida runs around the meadow, twirling, jumping, giddily stroking the bunnies, climbing trees, and overall having a blast. Thank god she liked it. It's not much, but it's home.

Heading over to my storage area, a tree with baskets and nets hanging from ropes, I grab a small block of wood, and precede to sit on a log by the fire pit, watching Merida lay in the grass and make a daisy chain out of the corner of my eye, carving an animal out of the block of wood.

Yup. This is home alright.

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><p>Several hours later, after going fishing in a nearby stream, I return victorious, Merida following behind, dragging a net full of fish with her little arms. Hmmmm. I'll have to build up her strength. And teach her to fight. Maybe I should start keeping a to-do list.<p>

I grab a few small baskets of nuts, berries and spices before sitting by the fire and start to cook. Merida sits next to me, since the sky is already dark, stars twinkling through the canopy, the only light coming from the huge fire, and a few resin-protected torches around the perimeter of our circular haven. She opens her mouth to ask me a question,

"Are you an angel?"

The naivety of the question makes me chuckle as I roast the nuts and season the fish.

"No, honey, I'm not. I'm a spirit. But I guess that's pretty damn close."

"What do spirits do?"

"We do a lot of different things. It depends on what type of spirit you are. I protect the forest, I speak to the trees and the animals, I know it's ways and use it's power.

I master the art of battle, I know every shape and form, I inspire army generals and aid in their wars.

But most importantly I'm the spirit of bravery. I conquer fear, I give my gift to those in need, I give them the courage to try, to believe."

By the end of my little speech, Merida sat open-mouthed, eyes wide with awe and admiration.

"Like when you touched my head, and I didn't feel scared anymore."

"Exactly like that."

"Is there a summer spirit?"

"Mmhmm. His name is Dean."

"Is he handsome?"

What? Why on earth did she want to know? I turn away from my vegetable-souping to see her stifling giggles behind her hand, eyes alight with mischief.

"Excuse me?"

"You should be his girlfriend!"

Shock. Yup, that's a pretty good word to describe how I feel.

"And _why_ should I be his girlfriend?"

"Because you're pretty, and nice, and smart. And you should have a boyfriend so you won't be lonely here."

Oh the naivety.

"Look, Merida," I begin, "I'm not lonely. And even if I was, it wouldn't matter, I'm not…..I'm not good with people."

"Why not?"

I sigh heavily, my eyes downcast.

"I have trust issues, okay? I don't have friends or family. I don't _want _friends or family. Never put yourself in a position of vulnerability, okay? You trust somebody, and then they stab you in the back. If you open up to people, let them see behind your mask, they betray you. Don't trust _anybody_."

"I wouldn't betray you."

Little arms wrap themselves around my waist, a small head nuzzling my stomach.

I think my heart just melted a little.

I cautiously wind my arms around her skinny frame, bending over slightly, one hand running itself through her hair.

"I know you wouldn't. You're my little bear cub, right?"

"Uh-huh. And you're my angel, right?"

I smile affectionately. I have a feeling this is the start of a beautiful sisterhood.

"I will _always_ be your angel."

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><p><strong>BEFORE YOU CLAW MY EYES OUT, YES IT'S MERIDA FROM <em>BRAVE.<em> ****I thought it would be funny if i put the star of _Brave_ with the Spirit of Bravery. She's not exactly the same, which is obvious from the fact that she had an abusive father, WHICH, by the way, is an adoptive father. Eleanor and Fergus died in a fire, okay? No Fergus-bashing. She's going to be a _major_ part of the story, ok? **

**How did you guys like seeing the two sides of Raz? The tough side and the soft side? There's going to be a lot of both in the next chapter.**

** And a lot of Bigfoot. (FORESHADOWING)**

**Reviews are appreciated.**


	3. Hate and Sin

**Hey guys! So, I've had this chapter boiling over for a while now, and I wasn't really going to finish it. That was until I noticed that I got two reviews! Thank you so much! It means so much to me when you guys follow, favourite or review. So I'm gonna do some quick shout-outs to all those who did any of the aforementioned things.**

**JokiBirthday for …..favouriting. Is that a word?**

**aliceyuky for following and favouriting.**

**hinaseth4ever for following and favouriting.**

**And last but most certainly not least,**

**lele (who sadly does not have an account so I can't PM her/him to show my thanks.)**

**Thanks to lele for being the first to review on both the prologue AND the 1st Chapter! And BTW, it's completely ok to love me forever, I get that a lot, I'm too sexy to resist.**

**So here is the next Chapter everybody! Hope you enjoy, follow, favourite and review!**

**I do not own Rise of the Guardians, only my OC, if I did Sandy would fart sparkles.**

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><p><em>Fortibus Lupus<em>

**Chapter 2: Hate and Sin**

_3 Years Later_

Light filters through the gaps between my eyelids, irritating my eyes enough for me to groan and roll over, promptly falling the 22 feet from my hammock to the ground below.

What a wonderful way to wake up.

Ah, the joys of sarcasm.

Better go see what Merida's doing, I think to myself as I raise my aching bones from the firm ground.

Looking around, I notice something wrong.

It's quiet.

Merida should be singing and dancing around the meadow with Bambi, or yelling at tree for not giving her it's fruit, or something of the sort. She's almost always making a racket of some sort. Even if it's her snoring, waking me up at ungodly hours of the morning. Of course, we spirits don't need sleep, but that doesn't mean we don't enjoy it. And I'll be damned if I let someone interrupt me without consequences.

But, anyway, where in the name of Hades is that damn girl?

By this point I've checked all the points of interest in the meadow, {AN: The meadow looks like Rapunzel's tower area, except with a tree canopy over the top and of course no tower.} the sleeping quarters, the hanging tree, the bonfire, the swing I built for Merida, the makeshift stable, the lookout tree, and the pond created by a small waterfall emerging from one of the rock walls of the meadow.

Merida reckons we should build treehouses and huts and things for shelter, but I'm not quite so sure. It may wreck the nature vibe to the place.

Maybe she went to go find supplies. Or to the nearby stream. Or went to go ride Angus.

But Angus is still here, lounging in the cool shade of the lookout tree.

Huh. Weeirrdddd. Better go save her sorry ass from whatever kind of trouble she got herself into this time

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><p>I move through the forest quickly, quiet as a ghost. My heart beating rapidly, my mind swirling with paranoid thoughts.<p>

It's been three hours since I woke and I've not seen hide nor hair of Merida. I'm so worried about her. At first I thought she just went to go stretch her legs or something, but as time's gone on I've checked everywhere and can't find her.

I come to a stop, body freezing up as I realise where my feet have led me.

The town.

Burgess is a small town, small population but friendly people. No perpetual weather type, constantly seasonal. My type of place. It's not that far from Kansas City, where I found Merida and saved her from an abusive stepfather. At the time I believed he was her biological father, but she later informed me that her parents, Fergus and Eleanor, had died in a fire, along with her 3 unborn brothers.

Poor kid. It still amazes me that she went through all that, only to have a smile on her face at the end of each day. At least she has me now. When she was younger I was a mother figure of sorts, singing her lullabies, home-schooling her, kissing her bruises. Now that she's closer to my physical age, I'm more like an energetic older sister, mucking around with her, playing, going on adventures. We're ridiculously close, closer than anyone we've ever met before. We can pick up on each other's moods before any words are spoken, we can cheer each other up with a simple nudge of the shoulder.

We fight like an old married couple, and yet we both know that we'll still be sisters at the end of the day, no matter what.

Oh dear god that was sappy. I get distracted way too easily.

Entering the small town's outskirts I notice the previous night's snowfall. There's at least five inches of the glittering dust, covering the houses and cars untouched, whereas the ground cover is littered with lots of footprints, all trails leading up to a group of about seven teenagers.

One of them has floppy blond hair and oversized glasses, his face pinched up in apprehension of the icicles hanging from a nearby tree. Another has a beanie over her hair, laughing lightly as she watches two other kids, most likely twins, make snow angels. Nearby to them is a gruff looking chick making a snowman, her appearance in conflict with her planet earth t-shirt.

The last boy, of roughly 16 years of age, with brown hair and eyes filled with childlike amusement, is conversing with the last girl, who looked younger than the rest of them. As I turn my eyes to look at the teen girl, my breathing constricts.

Merida.

There, in all her rebellious-forest-girl glory, she is. Talking to a boy. A human boy. She knows the rules, she knows the town is forbidden! And she knows the reason why it's forbidden! She can't just disregard the consequences of her actions! For fuck's sake, if someone founds out that she lives in the woods all alone then child services will take her away! She can't exactly say that her older sister takes care of her, I'm a fucking spirit! No one can see me!

Jesus Christ on a fucking bicycle I'm going to kill her.

As if she can sense my furious glare, Merida cuts off mid-sentence, her head turning, her eyes widening and her face paling as she sees my form, trembling with anger.

The boy turns too, eyes scanning the area, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion when he sees nobody.

"What is it? What's wrong?"

Merida flinches, head snapping back to the boy, fumbling on her words as she tries to think of a passible excuse.

"Ummmm….it's…er….um, hey Jamie? Remember earlier today when you told me about the Guardians?"

Jamie, nods slowly, clearly still confused as to where this is going. And by now the others have come over to see what's going on.

"Well…I, um….I have a friend who has powers too, she's a spirit like the ones in your story, but she's not a Guardian…..Meet my older sister Raz."

With a little bit of jazz hands, she gestures towards me, where I stand, silently fuming as I contemplate where to hide her dead body.

The teens, however, do not share in Merida's enthusiasm, as they struggle in vain to see me.

"Merida…there's nobody there….."

"Yeah she is, you just gotta believe dumbass. She's standing right there, she's got red hair and green eyes, and she has guns and knives and things for fighting bad shizzle!"

Oh poor Merida. They're now simply staring at her with alarmed eyes, having internal debates as to whether they should ask her if she's feeling okay, or to run away from crazy girl.

Well, except for one. The Jamie dude is still squinting at my approximate position, gears turning in his head, trying incredibly hard to see me.

And he does.

Just as my head turns and my eyes lock in on his, he stumbles backwards, eyes widening to the size of dinner plates, raking up my body from head to toe as he forms the words,

"Whoa."

Merida jumps up and down with glee, glad that he doesn't think that she's crazy.

"I know right? That's Raz!"

The others turn to me also, much with the same reaction as Jamie, as if his realization that I actually exist opened their eyes to the truth also.

"Wow!"

"She's so pretty!"

"Cool! That knife is awesome dude!"

Merida skips up to me, a proud smile on her face, as if pleased with her work in converting the teenagers to believers. She hooks an arm around my shoulders, giving me a quick hug, which I return before turning back to the astounded adolescents. (AN: Can I please have points not only for using the words astounded adolescents in the same sentence, but for spelling adolescents right first try as well?)

"Raz, meet Jamie, Pippa, Cupcake, Monty, Caleb and Claude. Guys, meet Arazebeth."

"Hello."

My response is icy, hard and unforgiving, still pissed off that Merida deliberately disobeyed me. Egh, I sound like that bitchy overprotective mother in every chick flick. I kinda get where they're coming from now though. Teenagers are little shits at the best of times.

I probably shouldn't take it out on the humans though. But, judging from what Merida said earlier, these guys either know the Guardians or believe in them, which means I need to tread lightly in order to preserve the life I've built for myself over the last 9 years.

"Ummm…Hi. So, you're a spirit? Like Jack Frost?"

It was Jamie who spoke. From the group's behavioural patterns, he seemed to be the unofficial leader.

"Yes, I am a spirit, in a sense. But I am not, in any way, akin to Jack Frost."

His name escaped my lips as a feral growl, my eyes darkening as I thought of the Guardian I never wanted to see in my darkest nightmares.

Unease visibly slivered down the teenager's spine, his foot sliding backwards, as if in preparation to retreat. Smart kid. He knows when to not push his luck. The others, however, do not.

"Do you not like Jack? I think he's really nice!"

It was the mousey boy, Monty, who dared to ask the question.

My eyes glittered ominously, my chest rumbling in disapproval, hand twitching unconsciously towards my gun, longing to point it at a target and pull the trigger.

And I didn't care who or what the target was.

For the truth is, I had no way to answer that question. No, I do not dislike Jack.

I hate him with an all-encompassing fury, whenever thoughts of him or any of the Guardians for that matter slither into my mind, my heart freezes. My functions stop. All I can focus on is a need. A gut-wrenching need to hate him, to hate everything about him. And yet to admit the reason to myself would be to lose the game. To think about, to dream about it, to tell someone, would be to lose. I cannot lose. It would break me. Snap me in half. Destroy everything I ever was.

So whenever Merida asks me why I hate Jack, I simply tell her, "Because I do."

Whereas to Monty I respond quite differently,

"I have no idea of whom you speak. I have never heard of a 'Jack Frost'. You must be mistaken."

"But… anyway, what are you the spirit of?"

"I am the Spirit of the Forest. Nothing more."

That was a straight up lie. Pat on the back for quick thinking skills, Raz. Gold star. I'm surprised Merida didn't contradict my bluff, but then again, she knows I'm not an expert battle strategist for nothing. And this was most definitely a battle of wits, whether my opponent knew it or not. Giving too much or too little information would lead to suspicion, little slips of the tongue could be fatal. Neither the pen nor sword wielder are victorious, for it is the silver-tongued who win the war.

I knew by this point that the opponents were on personal terms with the Guardians, that much was obvious. Whatever details they could find out about me and Merida would be relayed back to them shortly after this conversation. After all, new spirits were hardly common occurrences. Lest not forget spirits with human sisters. God forbid they try to work out how that works.

If the Guardians come to investigate said spirit, or more accurately when, it would be better if they only knew of my forest affinity. Because they know not of my battle strength, they will underestimate me, aside of course from common sensical caution. Thus I have a distinct advantage.

Hey, like I said, I'm not an army strategist for nothing.

But then there's the matter of my being mainly the Spirit of Bravery. Now, that's a large and complex issue. There are many different types of spirits, minor to moderate, moderate to powerful, powerful to juggernaut.

I'm on the powerful level. You see, there are spirits like the Groundhog, who next to nobody believes in, and aren't at all important. Those are minor spirits.

Then there are spirits like seasonal ones. Spirit of Summer for instance. Moderately relevant.

Then there are powerful spirits. Those are the spirits of an important moral or value, trait, like the Spirits of Love, Joy, Hope, Laughter, Dreams, Fear, etc. Since I was the Spirit of Bravery, I fit into this category. So were the Guardians. Although, if you counted all their powers as a whole, they were classed as a juggernaut. Almost.

Juggernaut Spirits, as I call them, were spirits with immaculate powers, forces of nature, none of their humanity remained, leaving ethereal beings who could turn the tides of the universe.

Yeah, they're the big guns. Mess with one and you'd never have been born. Literally.

So far the only Juggernauts I was aware of are Tsar Luna, Mother Nature, Sister Sun, and Father Time.

The only personal experience I'd had with any of them was when Tsar Luna created me. Many spirits refer to their spiritual birth as being 'chosen'. It can only happen when a human dies doing something of great valour. They then get 'chosen', reborn as a spirit. This did not happen with me. I have no memory of my human existence, nor whether I even had one. Surely, if I did, I would have some recollection of it? Perhaps the Moon simply created me from organic ingredients that he brought to life. Though why I would be covered in blood if thus was the case is beyond me.

And why I would be so close to Jack's lake.

"Wow! Thought's so cool! Is that why you live in the woods outside of town?"

An annoyingly perky female voice snaps me out of my reverie. Pippa. The only female in the group.

"What gives you the impression that we live in the woods?"

"Oh…well…we saw Merida come out of there earlier…and you're a forest spirit, so I thought..."

"Merida and I were hiking earlier, and we stopped at a stream for a rest. I accidently fell asleep against a tree and when I awoke Merida was gone. I went looking for her in case she decided to poke a sleeping grizzly, being the idiot that she is."

"Hey! I resent that!"

"Remember the time you wanted to play catch with that hornet's nest?"

"That was different!"

"Suuuurrrrrrreeeee."

During I little spat, the teenagers seemed to visibly relax, obviously appeased that I wasn't some psycho if I got along this well with Merida. Though I'm seriously going to propose that I get a Medal of Honour for my fuckin' amazing improv skills.

"Would you like to come say hello to the Guardians with us? We're meeting them here to go help North set up Christmas Party decorations. The sleigh should be here any second. I hope Sophie doesn't miss t though, she's running really late….."

SHIT. The Guardians would be here any second! I had to get out of here. I felt Merida tense beside me, our thoughts matching perfectly. We need to leave. Now. Pack up the meadow and make it look like no one had ever inhabited it. Flee Burgess, to another country, possibly a whole other continent. Even when we decline the teens' offer, they'll inform the Guardians of the Spirit of the Forest and her sister, as soon as they see them next.

And then the games will begin.

The Guardians will search far and low for this mysterious figure, never giving up. And we can only run for so long. They'll find us.

And then the game will be over.

I can't let that happen, not for me, but for Merida. She needed me. And I'll be damned before I lose her too.

"Sorry, but we have to go. Our Aunt will wonder where we got off to."

"Oh ok, will we see you again?"

"Hopefully not."

And on that dreary note me and Merida disappear around a corner, sprinting for the tree line, because we know, our lives depend on it.

"Hey Merida, just by the way, I don't care how hot you think Jamie is, if you ever sneak out again I will butcher you then dance on your grave."

"….Noted."

* * *

><p>It's been two weeks since that incident. Me and Merida have relocated to Tennessee, and despite our luxurious country estate, we both still enjoyed our time in The Meadow more.<p>

The estate was miles of country, with a horse ranch and country mansion. The owners were on holiday, leaving ample opportunity for me to put my feet up and read and for Merida to explore.

It was a cosy arrangement, but it wouldn't last long. Soon enough the owners will return and we will have to go on the run again. The Guardians had already been informed of my existence, it will only be a matter of time before they find us. I had been watching them, from the shadows, as they combed through Burgess, the woods, the surrounding towns, with no luck. They were completely lost as to where to find me. They knew nothing about us except for the description the teenage believers had given of me and Merida. A fierce tempered 13 year old, and an icy cold Spirit of the forest. That wasn't much to go on.

At least I knew they hadn't found The Meadow. Every day I return to the woods outside Burgess, to walk in my forest, to play with the animals I cared for since they were babes, to bathe in the rivers I protected so keenly, to watch the moon turn the treetops silver and the hills grey, and to remember the day that I was born, the day I will never forget as long as I live.

"I'm home! I stopped to grab some apples on the way back, I hope you don't mind."

Merida strolls through the front door and into the foyer, kicking off her boots and placing her coat on the rack. She places the bag of apples down on the kitchen bench, placing them neatly in the fruit bowl, before taking two, tossing one to me as she walks to the fridge.

I catch the apple without taking my eyes off my page in James Patterson's Judge and Jury.

"Did you pick them from the Eastern Orchards or just bought them Mrs. Jefferson's?"

"Picked 'em. That woman in the store creeps me out. Fingernails should not legally be that long.

I 'mummed in agreement. Mrs. Jefferson does have eerily long nails. Just looking at her could give you shivers.

"Are you reading that book again?"

Merida's question is slightly muffled from her loud rummaging of the fridge, her head remerging victorious with a bottle of apple blackcurrant juice just as I respond,

"Yes. Yes I am. It is an amazing book and it hurts me deeply to see that you haven't even read it once."

"That's because I don't like to read. I like to go on adventures."

"As do I. But knowledge is power."

"Sometimes I think you're too smart for your own good. Like when you talk like an old woman."

"I do not."

"A normal 19 year old would have said 'I so don't'."

"Must I keep reminding you that I'm 28?"

"Yes. I've never understood how that works. Please remind me yet again."

I heave a long-suffering sigh that causes Merida to laugh, before launching into my speech.

"When I died and resurrected, I was 19. Therefore my body will look as such for the rest of time. It was 6 years after that when I met you, which made me 25 then. It's been 3 years since then, which furthermore makes me 28 now. You were 10 when I met you, which makes you 13. Physically I'm 6 years older, mentally I'm 15 years older."

By the end of my tirade Merida has made herself a sliced apple, a chicken sandwich and a tall glass of juice for her. And a glass for me. God bless her. I pick up the glass and take a languid sip, perching myself on bench and swinging my legs back and forth.

"Yeah, yeah, you're older. We get it. What's for dinner?"

"Chicken Enchiladas, and apple pie."

"YUM."

"And you have to cook it."

"What?! WHY?!"

"Because I'm going out."

"Oh. Yeah. You're spying on Jack again tonight."

I sputtered indignantly,

"Wha- no! I'm not spying on him or anyone! I'm just visiting The Meadow."

"Suuurrreeeee."

"I'm done talking to you. Ingredients are in the pantry and 'recipe's on the bulletin board."

I walk swiftly out of the room, positive that if I was human I would be flushing red. I am most definitely not spying on him.

I'm out the door and walking down the path through the garden, Merida's laughter still within hearing range. Hopefully she won't burn the house down. That would be hard to explain to the owners. Having them return to a smouldering heap of ashes would be most unfortunate indeed.

The field to the West of the house is bare, a grazing field for foals. Now that the moon is shining brightly against its glittering backdrop, the field is all but empty, for a few hares still streak across the luminous plain.

Crickets chirp merrily, their song going unheard to all but a few. Fireflies dance through the country air, backs ends burning brightly, creating a cascading show of twinkling lights.

Trees are visible at the end of the field, the end of the property. Mystery beckons from its quivering branches, leave rustling an eerie tune.

My heart constricts, and my muscles ache in longing. I haven't shifted in so long, I've been resisting the urge. Avoiding the inevitable moment when my body changes to that of a proud wolf.

Because I know that the second I change, the chase is on. They haven't found me yet, after all, it's easy to slip into a crowd when you're a human. It's not so easy when you're a wolf the size of a horse. Being a wolf is so surreal. I'm completely in control, and yet animal instinct compels me to hunt. To hunt the Guardians.

My passionate hate for them gives me urges. Urges to attack them at first sight. Not to wait for them to find me, but for me to seek them out and bring the fight to them.

I can't give in to the urges. So I've been fighting every time they come. But I can't put it off any longer. If I do then I'll lose control. I'll cave in and change. Change into a beast. Not my usual wolf form, a mindless beast driven by hate. By greed and lust and sin. It could happen at any time now. It could have happened when I was talking to Merida. My little sister. She could have died because of me.

Either I need to deal with my conscious hate of the Guardians or my subconscious will do it for me.

Just imagine. A huge beast with teeth and claws and pound upon pound of pure muscle. Completely driven by hate and sin. Unstoppable.

Now don't get me wrong, it's not a Hulk scenario where if I get mad I'll turn into a beast. It's different. Because I'm a spirit, I have a purpose. I was chosen with a purpose. Hating the Guardians is unnatural. It wasn't supposed to happen. It goes in direct violation of my purpose. And yet to stop hating them would be to lose. I can't lose. I just can't.

No matter whether I hate them or not, I will destroy myself slowly.

I will break by losing.

Or I will die by winning.

* * *

><p><strong>Yup. Shit got real. Now, I really want to upload this, like, RIGHT NOW. But I also want Bunnymund to appear in this chapter so I'll upload it now than edit the document and update once he's in there. DOES THAT APPEASE YOU?!<strong>

**Haha just kidding I give zero shits.**

**Follows, favourites, and reviews are appreciated but not requested.**


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